


Who Moved My Cheese?

by AlexSeanchai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bee Sabine Cheng, F/F, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Good Parents Sabine Cheng & Tom Dupain, Identity Reveal, Mouse Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Multimouse, Ox Tom Dupain, Parent-Child Relationship, Podfic Welcome, Puns & Word Play, Queer Themes, Trans Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22732807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: Marinette—Want to play cat and mouse again? Tell my cheddar half I blue her a kiss and I'll beg her forgiveness once she's done creaming everyone; no time to ask parmesan."Adriengave this to you?" Marinette exclaims, half a shriek. The door bangs open again to admit her with Adrien's bodyguard behind. "Maman," she says, eyes so wide they look more white than gray, "I need to calm down.Help me."
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste's Bodyguard, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Paris, Sabine Cheng & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Tom Dupain
Comments: 37
Kudos: 331





	1. as gouda luck would have it

**Author's Note:**

> Or, the further adventures of "AlexSeanchai takes norakwami's crackfic premises too seriously", as spurred on by y'all know damn well who you are.

"Welcome, M. Lloyd," Sabine says with her accustomed cheer to Adrien's towering bodyguard when he enters the bakery, the door's bell jingling behind him. "The usual?"

Simeon—the kids aren't around to hear his name isn't actually 'the Gorilla', but Sabine will stick to 'M. Lloyd' aloud while anyone else is listening—shakes his head, moving around Pauline Leclair surveying the displays (and August in his stroller complaining of wanting candy) to show Sabine the neat handwriting on a folded paper in his hand:

> Give this to **Marinette** privately!

The text is written in black pen, with Marinette's name gone over in neon green highlighter. "She's busy with homework," Sabine says. "I'll pass it on."

One broad finger points to the underlined word _privately_. Simeon reaches for one of the pens they keep by the register, a pink silk-and-wire chrysanthemum floral-taped to the pen barrel, and adds to the note:

> NOW

Sabine notes Simeon's adamant stance and implacable expression; she dials Marinette.

Marinette doesn't answer the first call. On the second, she picks up long enough to say " _Busy, Maman!_ " and hang up again.

There are customers here, so she would really rather not leave the storefront unattended, and she can't leave it to Tom when he's out on a grocery run. Sabine shrugs helplessly.

Simeon pulls out his phone, types, and shows her his request; Sabine agrees to it, then watches cautiously as he first snaps a photo of the writing on the outside of this paper, then opens the first fold and snaps a photo of that, texting both to Marinette and returning Sabine's phone.

Moments later Marinette thunders down the stairs; to Sabine's surprise, she doesn't burst into the bakery, and to Sabine's deep concern, she enters with shoulders tense and wary gaze flicking over the room. "What's going on?" Marinette asks with a strained smile.

Silently as ever, Simeon shows Marinette the paper, indicating again the emphasized _privately_. Marinette tugs him into the stairwell and closes the door behind them.

Sabine eyes the second photo:

> Marinette—
> 
> Want to play cat and mouse again? Tell my cheddar half I blue her a kiss and I'll beg her forgiveness once she's done creaming everyone; no time to ask parmesan. I might not be much help processing this butterfat—curd have knocked me over with a feather!—but you know we trust your capabrielities (also, you're shredded). It might sound cheesy, but you two have this in the bag.
> 
> The other reason I said no when your father asked about my learning to bake is you said no when

The next line is hidden under the second fold.

" _Adrien_ gave this to you?" Marinette exclaims, half a shriek. The door bangs open again to admit her with Simeon behind. "Maman," she says, eyes so wide they look more white than gray, "I need to calm down. _Help me_."

"—What's wrong?" Sabine asks, moving at once to wrap Marinette in the tight embrace that's sometimes enough in itself to soothe her daughter. "Tell me."

Marinette shakes her head, pigtails whipping against Sabine's shoulders. "Calm first."

"Breathe with me. In—and out—" Sabine models the deep slow breathing they both know.

Pauline Leclair clears her throat. "Should I come back later?"

"Maman, _lollipop_!" protests little August.

"Stay!" snaps Marinette, jerking her head back up. Then seems to realize how abrupt she sounds. "Stay. Please."

"All right," says Pauline.

It's a few more worried moments before Marinette draws away, breathing steady again. "M. Gorille," she says, turning to him, "am I right that you want to get back to your charge as soon as possible?"

Simeon nods.

"Okay," says Marinette, turning away to grab a flat-pack bakery box and start folding it. "If you want to grab one of whatever you'd buy for yourself here, please do, it's on me. Maman, do we still have any of the Disney cake decorations? Minnie Mouse. Specifically."

"Has anyone special ordered a Disney cake recently?" Sabine asks, confused.

"Never mind then." Marinette puts a slice of plain cheesecake in the box and starts decorating it with the raspberry and chocolate sauces. "Don't do anything else out of the ordinary, M. Gorille," she says. "I know that probably sounds like the worst thing we could ask of you right now, but—please. And if anyone asks, the person this was a custom order for refused to pay, so we refused to deliver—" She surveys her hasty work, then nods and closes the box. "—so you got it for your charge at reduced price."

She presses the box into Simeon's steady hands, then throws three of the croissants he indicates into a bag on top.

"Thank you," Marinette says with somber earnestness. "Thank you so much."

The door jingles when Simeon leaves, and latches with an audible _click_.

Marinette leans heavily on the counter, toying through pink denim with something in her pocket. "Okay," she says in the general direction of August's stroller, or maybe her shoes. "Okay. Next is—" She falls silent, lips moving.

Sabine and Pauline exchange bewildered glances. Pauline asks, "Marinette—what's wrong?"

"Maman, close the shop," Marinette says instead of answering. There is no hint of filial deference in her commanding tone. "Mme. Leclair, if you have anywhere important to be today, you had better go now. But if you want to help…"

She presses one hand to her thigh, to the thing in her pocket, and draws a long breath, and straightens to look at Pauline, who hasn't moved except to reach down and catch August's small hand in hers.

"Pauline Leclair," Marinette says. "You have told Ladybug and Chatonne Noire more than once that you owe them, personally and as a mother and as a Parisian, more than anyone is able to repay. 'A debt beyond words to describe', you said."

Sabine watches Marinette brush a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing one of the dark earrings she knows Alya gave her early in their acquaintance. Sabine watches Pauline's cheeks pale.

"What do the Heroes of Paris need?" asks Pauline.

"Someone to keep watch over between three and five children under ten, not counting August." Marinette pulls her phone out of her pocket—fumbles it, catches it, frowns, pockets it again, draws a breath. "We can probably call in more help, if that's too many for you to keep to a dull roar. Which it might be," she adds, almost wry. "I know I'm creating a monster here."

It is suddenly terribly cold, Sabine thinks dimly: there must be a draft. "Marinette," Sabine says again, "what's wrong?"

Ladybug turns to her: bare-faced, gray-eyed, but there is no mistaking the awful, awe-inspiring blue fire in her stare.

"Hawkmoth and Mayura have Chatonne Noire," Ladybug says. "But they don't _know_ they have Chatonne Noire. And apparently Mayura just had dental surgery, and they gave her the _good_ drugs—which means they have my partner, _right_ where we want them." She smirks, unbuckling August from his stroller— " _Lollipop_!" —to lead Sabine and Pauline upstairs. "In benzos veritas?"

"I told Ladybug any other employer would fire her for absenteeism," Sabine says faintly, moving to lock up the register—she can count it later. She can count up how often she has failed her daughter _later_. "I grounded _Ladybug_ for missing class." She shuts off the lights in the storefront. "Awesome."


	2. your mission, if you cheese to accept it

Tom pushes the Chinese grocery's door open with one foot, adjusting the weight of shopping bags on and in his arms, and turns toward home, humming something upbeat and jovial against the busy sounds of a weary, wary city.

A motorcycle roars past, its driver calling "Buongiorno, mio polpetto!"[01] in a familiar voice. Tom pauses, blinking: did he know Mamma would be here today?

Gina stops her motorbike beside the bakery, too far off for Tom to have the least idea of what Marinette says when she runs outside. But he can see Gina's stance sway, then firm. He can see the teal-haired boy who sometimes runs their deliveries—not Louis; Tom can never quite remember—escort Marinette's blabbermouthed classmate Lila out of the building and bundle her onto the motorcycle, Gina holding her tight with one arm. He's close enough that when Gina kicks the kickstand and drives out of sight, he can hear Marinette call "Divertite in Toscana!"[02] laughingly after them.

—What did he just witness?

Marinette darts right back inside; Not-Louis holds the apartment door open for Tom—or not for Tom, he thinks when Nadja hurries out. She glances around, spying Tom: "Do you know what's going on?" Nadja asks.

"…Something's going on?"

He realizes one moment too late how inane he sounds.

Nadja slumps a little, then straightens, glancing around them. "Something's _about_ to be going on," she tells him in an undertone. "All I was told is, it won't be _in_ Place des Vosges, but if we set up there, we'll be close to the action." She nods across the street, where a camera operator is waiting by the statue of Ladybug and Chatonne Noire. "And there's a great deal of noise in your apartment right now."

"Cacophony," Not-Louis agrees, waving Nadja off with a smile. "The bakery's closed," he tells Tom. "Mme. Cheng wants to talk to you. Marinette probably doesn't but probably should."

"Did something happen to Marinette?" Tom asks, heart jolting. He starts for—stops, starts for the door again, so he follows young Max inside instead of colliding in the doorway. "I didn't hear my phone ring—"

"I don't want to hear any apologies!" Marinette says at top volume. "You didn't listen. Fine. I didn't handle Lila as well as I could have either. _Forget it_. Moving _on_."

"No one called you," Not-Louis says apologetically from behind him; Max has already reached the living room landing. "No one's gotten much explanation yet…"

Tom follows Max into the living room. Upstairs, two young voices—familiar but he can't name them—are shouting indistinctly at each other. Several of Marinette's classmates are in the living room and kitchen—Ivan on the sofa facing the TV with the edges of Mylène's ringlets showing she's on his lap; Alya and Nino side by side on the sofa, facing into the room; Kim is leaning on the kitchen counter, and Not-Louis moves to join him; Alix is perched on one of the dining stools and Max hops up on another. Marinette is sitting on the dining table itself, swinging her feet, one hand fisted in her lap and the other clutching white-knuckled a pink-and-gold wooden shoebox-sized chest Tom hasn't seen before. Sabine, on the staircase, has her head between her knees.

"What in God's name is going _on_?" Tom exclaims. "Marinette—" He stops short of reminding her, as he hasn't needed to in several years, that tables are not for climbing on. She'll be embarrassed, maybe upset, and—

Marinette looks up. "Papa," she says, voice trembling as though she's about to cry, and flings herself into his arms.

It's only a moment before she pulls back—Tom doesn't want to let her go: ten different things aren't adding up here, at least one of them is badly upsetting her, and from how they're the center of attention, he's the only one without a clue—and she meets his gaze. "Papa," Marinette says, "do you remember what you said my second morning of troisième?"

"…Cupcake, I don't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday."

"That's what I thought," Marinette says with a sad little laugh. "It wasn't even two hours before Stoneheart at Tour Eiffel—do you remember now?"

Tom shakes his head, bewildered.

"I asked what if Ladybug fails." She says it matter-of-factly. Her classmates variously gawk, gape, and gasp. "You said _you'd_ come and save me," she says. " 'Super Baker to the rescue!' "

"But Ladybug has never failed us?" Tom thinks he remembers the conversation now; he isn't sure, but with when he apparently said—

"She did." Marinette's voice is stony. "She did. The day before you said you'd step up if you needed to, armed with a fresh baguette if you had nothing else. That was _important_ , Papa." Her eyes soften, from bare granite to mountain mist. "I need you to know: that mattered."

Marinette pivots away, seating herself again on the table with the pink box. "I have a sketchy outline of our strategy," she announces. "Mylène, there is an important part I do not want to tell you—not because you're less trustworthy or anything, just because I think it'll be more effective if you don't know it's coming. If you'd like, I'll tell you with everyone else, but I'd rather you go upstairs for a bit."

Mylène tilts her head consideringly. "…Can you give me a hint?"

"Horrificator was a comparative sweetheart," Marinette says at once, with what she clearly intends to be a reassuring smile.

Tom stares at her. "Are you _trying_ to get your friend akumatized?"

Sabine heaves a sigh without lifting her head. "Tom, come here," she says. Mylène hops off Ivan's lap and makes shooing motions, chasing Tom toward Sabine and the stairs.

The woman sitting on Marinette's chaise longue talking quietly with Nino's little brother is a regular customer, Tom knows, but he can't place her except by relation to the toddler one of Alya's little sisters is now playing patty-cake with. ( _That_ toddler. Poor kid.) The other twin is arm-wrestling Manon, and there is a suspicious lump under Marinette's bed covers; Mylène heads straight for the ladder.

Sabine drops into Marinette's computer chair; as it spins, Tom notices she's wearing a comb in her hair that he doesn't recognize, glossy white with bronze lines that he thinks Marinette would describe as 'cloisonné' and Sabine as 'plum blossoms'. "We have been lecturing our daughter for two years," Sabine tells Tom, staring at the rug. "Punctuality. Reliability. Truthfulness. Trustworthiness. _Keeping your promises_."

"She's been getting worse," Tom observes, quietly, as though that means the children or the customer won't hear. "I don't know what else to do."

Sabine laughs, a sound that ends as a sob.

"Tom," says the customer, glancing up from the book on her phone. "How do you think Ladybug's parents feel about her?"

What this has to do with anything—why Sabine has brought Tom up here to discuss it in front of children and near-strangers, when a flock of teens are plotting who knows what downstairs and his own mother made off with one of their number, if he even _saw_ that right—

"Proud, I expect," Tom says. "A brave young woman like that? They clearly raised her right."

"They did do that," the customer murmurs.

"Pauline!" exclaims Sabine.

"They did raise her right," Pauline repeats, smiling. "Chatonne Noire's parents, now—"

Sabine shushes her. "You're not _wrong_ ," she adds, sour. To Tom, she continues, "We have been telling Marinette at least every week for two years, if not every _day_ , that she is screwing up, and falling short of what she is capable of, and _failing_ us."

"Not like that." Tom has never phrased it in any of those ways, and he is certain Sabine hasn't either. The way she says it, though—

"No, not like that." Sabine swallows another sob, and shakes her head when Tom moves to hold her. "We have been telling her she is untruthful and unreliable and _untrustworthy_ , without ever once noticing what she has been doing or why she has been doing it, and—we are still our daughter's heroes."

Sabine takes the flowered enamel comb out of her hair and shows it to Tom.

"Despite all that," she says with another cracked little laugh, "we are still Ladybug's heroes. Pollen?"

A small yellow thing darts out from behind Sabine: black-limbed and -striped, with black antennae. "Greetings!" she says.

Tom sits down hard.

"She wants us—" Sabine gestures to include him, herself, and Pauline. "—to keep Etta, Ella, Chris, Manon, August, and—I haven't caught Ivan's brother's name—entertained and safe. Pollen will help me transform into the Bee heroine if need be—Mǐhon, I think, or Mìfēng. It will be your choice whether to accept, she said, but if you want to be a superhero for a day, start thinking of cattle puns."[03]

"Our daughter is Ladybug," Tom says, just to be sure he has this clear.

Sabine nods. "What marvelously perceptive and supportive parents we are. Oh, and the reason we never have as many of yesterday's pastries when we open as when we closed is because the little ladybug spirit gets hungry."

Since Tom would have given Ladybug all of yesterday's pastries every day if she'd asked, that Marinette _didn't_ ask hurts. But he has overheard more than one round of Marinette versus Alya on the subject of telling Paris the heroes' names. Marinette's arguments include that if Paris knows, Hawkmoth knows, and if Hawkmoth knows, the heroes and their loved ones are in danger.

Tom moves to hold Sabine again; this time she lets him. "She took every one of those lectures to heart," he observes, starting to choke up himself. "We have never had reason to think _Ladybug_ is unreliable or untrustworthy. Our brave little girl."

"Raised her right," Sabine agrees into his shoulder.

A rapping at the trap door, and Marinette enters. "Mylène, head back down," she says, and Mylène climbs back down from the loft. "Stay with Ivan." Mylène nods and leaves; Marinette turns almost hesitantly toward Sabine and Tom.

Tom catches her into the hug. "We are so proud of you," he tells her. "And your partner. You should bring her over more often," Tom tells her, mock sternly. If _that_ meal was the friendliest Chatonne Noire had had in a long time? Whoever raised _her_ is in need of a sharp talking-to, at _least_ , and the girl—who is probably Marinette's age, good God!—is probably the courageous, determined young woman she is in _spite_ of those who raised her, not (as, Tom flatters himself and Sabine, with Ladybug) because of them. "She's far too thin."

"Labor law says not," Marinette says, bitter singsong. Her voice flattens: "I'm going to kick her father's head in."

As a father, Tom is not sure whether to worry that he is unsure how to think she means that.

Marinette pulls away, standing straight and strong, and Ladybug—he can see it now—produces a dark blue ring-like thing that she holds in one extended bare palm. "Tom Dupain, here is the Miraculous of the Ox, which grants the power of strength. You will use it for the greater good. Once the job is done, you will return the Miraculous to me. Can I trust you?"

"For heifer and heifer," Tom assures her, reaching for— "Uh, is this a nose ring?"

Ladybug nods, the corners of her mouth twitching. "It stays on with magic. And you're terribull." She goes up on tiptoe, Tom leaning down, to secure the Ox Miraculous in place; he closes his eyes against the bright burst of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _01:_ Italian: "Good morning, my meatball!" (I am assured this is a parent-to-son sort of endearment.) [return]
> 
>  _02:_ Italian: "Have fun in Tuscany!" [return]
> 
>  _03:_ 蜜蜂: Wēnzhōuhuà 'mǐhon'; Mandarin 'mìfēng'; English 'honeybee'. [return]  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> [My comment policy](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/post/612627045048008704/as-a-fic-writer-i-need-every-reader-to-know): tl;dr happy comments make me happy. So do thinky comments, of course, but there exist jerks who think only thinky comments are worth anyone leaving.
> 
> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


End file.
